Observations of an Observer
by lil-hermione-at-heart
Summary: Hermione has granted herself a trip to the gorgeous city of Rome, Italy over the anniversary of Voldemort's death. After 3 years of trying to put her life back together since the war's end, and failing miserably, she decided a vacation would be a great start. Little did she know she would stumble upon something that would be the glue she needed to put the pieces back together.


**Chapter One**

She was here. She'd caught his eye the second she'd sat at the table corner table of the café with a rather large novel in her hand. Only Hermione would even consider reading a book of that size on a vacation in Rome.

He mumbled in quick Italian to his friend, asking him to cover her table. His friend complained, saying it wasn't in his section. But the observer begged, saying he would take over two of his friend's tables and still let him have the tips if he'd just cover her table. Finally giving in and going to take her order, the observer quickly walked in the other direction.

Well after closing time that night, he was still waiting for her to leave. His friend had done as he had agreed and waited on her, but the observer still had to clean up the table, which he couldn't do until she left.

He looked over at the front podium from the table he was cleaning at the manager, who kept pointing to Hermione.

"Go tell her we're closed" he mouthed to the already nervous wreck of a waiter.

The observer sucked in a breath and said a quick prayer to the powers that be, hoping this would end smoothly, and headed to her table.

"Ma'am, we're well passed closing. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave," he muttered quickly with his slight Italian accent.

Her head lifted and her eyes connected with his, causing his heart to skip a beat and his mind to reel with panic all at once. He thought he saw a spark of thought in her chocolate orbs, but it quickly passed as she turned her attention to the sky beyond the windows.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I lost track of the time. Always happens when I'm reading," she apologized with a faint smile coming to her lips.

"Some things never change," he thought to himself while saying, "Don't worry. Would you like me to call you a taxi?" He smiled.

Big mistake.

She turned back to him and this time he knew what the spark meant. She recognized him.

"Oh bloody hell." He thought he was screwed. It didn't matter that his eyes were now just as brown as hers and his hair was a dark dirty blonde and almost down to the bottom of his neck. Trying to recover, he quickly turned away to go to the phone.

"Wait."

Damn.

He stopped mid-stride and held his breath.

"You look familiar," she said to his back.

He didn't move. He wasn't going to give her another chance to look into his face.

"You look very much like a friend of mine. Well, I guess old friend now. I haven't seen or heard from him in three years."

It was then that he turned around. He also knew that tone. When he looked at her face, the single tear falling down her perfect rosy cheeks confirmed it. She missed this old friend a lot.

He walked back over to the table, all the while trying to figure out what to say to her.

"Um, I'm terribly sorry for your loss," he said in a quiet voice while placing a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like me to walk you out?"

She nodded her head as she gathered her book. "Oh, my bill."

He shook his head. "Don't worry, it's on me."

She smiled her thanks and followed him out the door and let him wave down a taxi for her. She breathed another thanks as she slipped into the back seat. He closed her door, and the car took off.

But he still saw her turn around and watch him until the car was out of sight.

The observer walked into a street market to grab a few groceries a few days later. As he walked over to the refrigerated section, he paused, hand out-stretched. She was here too. First work, now here. He had a moment of panic and ducked into the nearest isle, and then poked his head back out to make sure she hadn't seen him. Luckily, she hadn't; but he couldn't miss the opportunity.

He doubled back and came up the isle behind her. "Surprise seeing you here." His light Italian accent apparent still.

She turned around and almost ran smack into his chest. "Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, backing up.

She looked up into his face and he saw that flash of recognition in her eyes again. He quickly backed up as well, trying to put distance between them so she would hopefully not notice too much more.

"Fancy seeing you too," she started, looking down to the floor while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"How'd you stumble across this place? It's just some small street market, far off the beaten tourist track," he spoke, voice smooth and even. He smiled at her. The things he wanted to say to her, wanted to remind of her, confess to her; but he knew he couldn't.

When she seemed to be struggling with the right words, he spoke up to save her from her internal battle. "Anyways, I should go. But it's good to see you again."

She smiled back at him, mentally trying to figure out where she knew him from. "Yeah, maybe." She flashed him another smile and went back to her shopping.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, watching her, as he proceeded through the check-out and out the door.

After he had stopped back at his apartment to drop off his groceries, he headed for work. He tried to focus on remembering orders but she was all he could think about. Should he find her; should he confess to her, apologize even? He shook his head, determined to not let it get to him. His life was finally normal and he wasn't sure he was ready to give that up.

He continued his work, slowly getting his bearings back. Just as he was finally calmed down, _she_ walked in the door. Did she do that on purpose? He watched her as she returned to the table she had claimed the first night, same book in her hand. Well, he couldn't pull the trick he had used last time.

Slowly, he made his way to her table, desperately looking for an excuse to prolong taking her order. But when he was just a few feet away, she looked up and her eyes met his. He stopped just short of her. "Well, long time no see." He mentally cursed himself for sounding flirtatious.

She smiled, blushing a bit. "I didn't intend to come back here to see you, I promise. I was planning on it before I even saw you at the market." She paused. "That sounded mean, I'm sorry. I do like seeing you; you seem nice. I just don't want you to think I'm stalking you or anything." She paused again, sighing and shaking her head causing him to smile. "Again, I'm sorry. I can't seem to get my words straight. However, my point being, I like this restaurant. It's cute, quaint, quite; perfect for reading and enjoying real Italian food."

"Well, thank you. I appreciate it, just as I'm sure the cook and owner would too. And don't worry, you're fine." He beamed at her; he couldn't help it. Being in her presence just made him more happy than he could ever remember being. The way she would ramble, the cute blush that rose on her cheeks when she couldn't figure out what to say. He almost caved right there, but not quite.

Catching himself, he quickly added, "So what would you like tonight?"

She let out a sigh of relief and quickly spouted off her order. He nodded, gave her a smile and a quick "coming right up", and then headed back to the kitchen. He barged through the swinging door and walked straight up to the cook. After quickly repeating her order, he resigned himself to the corner. Sinking to the floor, he put his head in his hands.

He hadn't been there for a minute before the friend he'd gotten to take Hermione's order the other night walked up to him. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

The observer lifted his head. After looking into his friend's concerned face for a while, he decided he just couldn't say anything. "Nothing," he said curtly as he got to his feet. "Nothing at all." With that, he walked back out, determined to not slip up or give himself away.

And so it went on. Every night she would come in with her book and sit at the exact same table, order the exact same thing, and stay until he had to come tell her they were closing. Every night, he would walk her out and signal a cab, in which she would be swept away; only to return the next night.

The cycle went on for three weeks. They only ever had short conversations about either her book or the weather, never anything that really mattered. By the end of the third week, she was on the last chapter of her book; a book that he probably knew just as well as she did. But that night was a little different.

He brought her the usual drink, along with her meal. When he arrived at her table, she had her face so close to the pages that he swore her nose was touching them. And when he tried to ask her how it was, she just ssshhh'ed him and waved him away.

He left her alone the whole night until closing time came. He headed towards her table and, as he approached, she put her hand up signaling him to stop. He stood in his spot, watching her as she finished the last page. When her eyes covered the very last line, she slowly closed the book and set it on the table with a huge smile on her face.

"Well?" he asked, smiling as he took the final steps to her table.

She turned to him, smile still in place.

"Did it end well?" he said, still smiling as well.

Just as she opened her mouth to tell him, the manager walked up beside the observer and said, "Sorry miss, but we close about ten minutes ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Again," she added with her smile.

The observer took a few steps back as she stood, book in hand, and dropped the exact amount of euros on the table.

After the manager had walked away, she turned to him. "I know you want to know how it ends so why don't you just meet me in the park down the block when you're done and I'll fill you in?"

He gave her a soft smile, saying he'd meet her as soon as he finished closing. When she was out the door and passed the windows, he quickly ran around getting done everything he needed to.

He walked down the street, hands tucked into his jean pockets. As he approached the park, he saw her sitting on a bench in front of the large tree that reached up so high it looked like it could touch the moon. When he reached her, she smiled at him and patted the bench next to her.

"So, I'm taking it that the book ended well due to the smile that's still plastered on your face?" he said, chuckling a bit.

She rolled her eyes but still kept her smile. "Yes, it ended perfectly."

He waited a second. "And? Aren't you going to tell me?"

He eyes softened but her smile remained just as bright. "He told her; she made him cave and he finally told her he was in love with her." She let out a sigh of contentment.

At that moment, seeing her so happy, he lost all reason. He stopped caring about whatever consequences there might be or however chaotic his life was going to get. She had made him cave. And he was going to tell her.

"Hermione there is something I want to tell you," he said, eyes dropping to the ground.

"You know, I've known you for a little over three weeks and I still don't know you name," she said as if she hadn't even heard him.

He sighed and looked into her eyes and, grabbing her hand that was folded around the edge of the bench, he said, "You already know my name."

She quickly glanced down at their now intertwined hands, then back to his face. "No I don't. How could I? You've never told me."

He let out another sigh as he closed his eyes. This was going to be harder than he thought, but there was no turning back now. So he told her.

"I told you my name nine years ago." Her expression turned to one of extreme confusion. "I told you my name when you came looking for a boy's lost toad. You've carried the weight of my name, along with yours, for so long now. But even though my name was and probably always will be attached to yours, you never left my side. You were with me through thick and thin, through good and bad, through happy times and sad times and painful times. You fought with me through every battle and every struggle; laying your life on the line way too many times for someone so young. And it was entirely my fault. It was my fault that you have had to go through so many terrible things and almost get killed so many times; and there is no way I can repay you for still staying with me. But I had to try. So I left. When Voldemort was finally dead, I left so you could have a chance at a normal life that didn't have death and fighting lurking around every corner. You have given so much for me, so it was my turn to return the favor. I fled to Roma, hoping for some peace and quiet; but I had to change my look. My face would be known everywhere. So I found a glamour charm that would never come off until I removed it, and was impenetrable against every other spell. I came up with a new name and a fake history, but never told anyone it unless I had to. But then you showed up in the restaurant the other night and I guess I should've admitted to myself that I couldn't stay in hiding forever. Every night that I saw you again slowly broke down the barrier that kept me from saying anything. So when you asked me to meet you tonight, I knew it was time that I came clean, that I told you the truth. Hermione, you already know my name."

As he had continued talking, her expression softened and tears began to roll down her face. He lifted his hand and brushed away the tears. As his hand swept across her cheek, she leaned her face into it and smiled. "You don't know how much I've missed you," she whispered.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "For the past three years I've been trying so hard to pull my life back together. And when the anniversary rolled around, I just couldn't take the publicity and reporters that would come knocking on my door again, so I came here. Little did I know I'd find the one person who could help me put all the pieces back together."

She let out another sob and he pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him as if her life depended on it.

"I've missed you so much, Hermione," he said, a few of his own tears falling from his eyes and landing in her bushy brown hair.

"I've missed you too, Harry."


End file.
